Posts Tagged ‘grown up’

Into work, lots of loving on the charges, family friend visit, lots of kids running around, and then quiet, a reprieve, unexpected in the middle of the day.

Snuggles and nap time with the baby and then the family and their friends went out to lunch and I had nearly an hour to myself.

It was so nice.

I haven’t had that since school has gotten out.

I ate a slow, relaxed lunch.

I looked at the skyline from the back porch, I made a few phone calls and connected with a girlfriend I haven’t seen since January, we made tentative plans to get together when the family I nanny for is on vacation.

So nice to reconnect.

I was to do the camp pick up for the middle child and I enjoyed the hell out of riding the MUNI, not having any charges, and then taking a nice quiet walk to BiRite, picking up snacks for my charge and a few things for the house.

Pick up at school was great.

My charge and I ate cherries and apricots and talked about sunshine and being nice, “I’m going to tell mom that I was kinda nice to you today,” she said and squeezed my hand tight.

I love her so much.

She is always the best.

Even when she is a handful of fierce fiery little girl.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

She has a voice and I really love how her parents let her have that voice.

I was shushed often.

There was a lot of don’t speak unless spoken to in my home.

I didn’t really know that children could engage and interact and have conversations with their parents.

It was sort of, get out-of-the-way and be quiet or go outside and leave me alone.

I’m ok with that.

I developed a big case of the curiosity at a very young age and a desire to explore, seek, find, and experience whatever I could.

I had, and still do have a great big imagination.

I don’t really escape into fantasy anymore, life is real and reality is so much more interesting, but for a while, when I was young, fantasy was my hard-core go to.

And I was, and am, dare I say it, creative.

I concocted lots of games, did relay races with kids in the neighborhood, made up my own version of Kick the Can, Ghost in the Graveyard, Ding Dong Ditch, and a plethora of other things.

The summer I watched the Iron Man triathlon on television and became absolutely mesmerized in the event.

I staged a mini Iron Man, I called, aptly, Iron Kids.

There was a run around the apartment complex, followed by a bicycle race.

I couldn’t do the swimming in the ocean part, seeing as how we were in Wisconsin and the nearest pool was miles away, but I am sure I improvised something.

It might have been running in and out of all the wading pools in the courtyard.

I found my voice in motion and then again in books and escaping to the library.

I was always reading.

Always.

I would hide under my blankets at night with a flashlight and read.

I got yelled at a lot to do that.

Now.

I wonder, would a parent yell at a kid for reading past bedtime?

Perhaps using their phone and texting or being active on social media, but reading?

I think, probably not.

Ooh.

I got a new book in the mail.

Such a gift.

To get a book.

That is not for school.

I look forward to reading it.

I don’t have much time now, but it is something that I can flip through and I will be able to enjoy it when I am off from the family in July.

I am still trying to suss out if I’m going to travel.

One of my clients who I see on Thursdays will be gone for vacation and his times overlap mine and the availability I have to travel.

Maybe there’s a long weekend in my near future.

I am open to all possibilities.

And I’m super psyched.

Tomorrow is Friday!

I have a client consult after work.

I will have a long day still.

I’m hoping I’ll be able to sneak in a little time with my fellows, if I get out of work fast enough, and then I’ll have a client at 7:30 p.m.

It’s a consult, so there’s the possibility it may only go a half hour.

So if I don’t get out of work in time I’ll see about doing the deal after seeing the consult.

I will probably always be a “girl on the go” in my heart, I feel like a girl most times, sometimes a small girl, sometimes an adolescent, but more and more, I feel like I am a woman.

Only took 42 years to get here.

Maybe it has something to do with not reaching out to men that don’t serve me well any more.

My father

My ex boyfriend.

The old ex boyfriend.

The lover.

The other lover.

The one that could have been a lover, but never was.

The old friend, yeah that one, who was never in my heart an old friend, but a sort of I wish it could be, why isn’t it, maybe it will be someday.

Or perhaps it has something to do with saving my money to buy the thing that I know I am going to be using a lot of very soon–my new MacBookAir.

I am in fact, writing this blog on my old computer and I am wee bit astounded that I am able to, although, it is not the same as it was. There are glitches. I for instance, can’t see what I am writing as I am writing. The program is not translating the way it should. I actually have to scroll down, after every line. Good thing I’m aces at typing, but it is disconcerting.

It is almost like using a manual typewriter. Last night this was not the case, but tonight, so it goes. At least I am able to use the computer.

I also can’t tell how many words this is. The word count is disabled.

I know all the kinks will get worked out and I will have a new computer to write with and internet with and do things with and all that stuff.

Wait.

I mean all the things!

Yes, all those things.

Like growing up and paying my health insurance as soon as I get it in the mail.

Oh yeah, I just did that.

And it was that last action that made me think, you know, you’re a grown up.

The little girl, she is still there, the young woman is there too, that angst filled teenager with her desires to dance with somebody who loves me.

Heh.

I guess I just dated myself there a little bit.

All those sad, lonely nights, fantasizing and dreaming and wondering about what life would be when I grew up.

I was not expecting this, but tell you what, this is real good.

March has been full and replete and astounding in its way.

When I think about all the things that have happened and all the good that has come my way, it is no surprise to me that I am a “woman of the world.”

I got into graduate school, having made the decision to become a therapist, sticking with the intuition and the guidance and the suggestions given me, really following through, applying, and getting in.

Then securing my place in the cohort by depositing money to hold my spot and to accept that I was accepted.

What else?

Getting of my duff and buying a ticket to visit my grandmother in Chula Vista.

This feels very grown up, making plans to see family and to stay connected.

What else shows me a woman?

Asking for a job review, getting a great performance review, asking for vacation time when I want it, getting to go to Burning Man.

Oh yeah, that is a womanly thing to do.

The figure-head of Burning Man is a man, we all know that, but when I think of all the women that make that organization go, well, I am proud to be a part, albeit a small part, but a part nonetheless, of the matriarchy.

Then there is the taking care of myself, the food, taking an iron supplement again, getting my knees checked out, having my skin looked at, the hydrocortizone, fyi, is totally working.

And finally, getting off the social media dating kick.

That feels very grown up.

Not succumbing to the cave man interactions of texting and Tindering and checking you out on Hinge and swiping left, right, upside down, inside out, over and under.

Making the decision to allow myself to be pursued and in the meantime, actively pursue my life, regardless of dating or not dating.

I believe that I will always be a free spirit, young at heart, a girl on the go, for certs dude.

However, as I have more than one purse now, helps balance me out after using a messenger bag all week-long, I think it is accurate to say, the lady is all grown up.

Not sure if what I am writing is even going to make it out into the world as a blog.

It may.

It may not.

I am actually a bit incredulous that I am actually utilizing my computer after the epic fail of trying fruitlessly Saturday to fix the problem.

There was no fixing.

And I resigned myself to the fact that the time had come for me to hang up the towel on my lovely little laptop, it has seen me through so much–multiple trips to Burning Man, Paris and back, London, Rome, Oakland, ha–I was loath to let her go.

But it was not working and I don’t know how long it will work tonight.

I feel like I am pinching myself to even be in my blog.

I couldn’t get into my Facebook, which is probably a blessing.

Nor into my Gmail account, which is an annoyance, but I can access both via my phone.

A dear friend told me Saturday as I was freaking out about how I had fucked up my computer and I didn’t know what to do and the damn thing is vintage, obsolete, won’t support the newest platform for browsing, so Safari won’t load and bah!

She talked me off the ledge and said maybe I needed a weekend away from the computer.

What?!

No.

Yes.

NOOOOO!

Yes.

Yes.

YES!

Oh, this is good.

I mean, the weekend is over and I am online and I did just do some big girl stuff, because, as I said, I don’t know if this blog will post, but man I miss writing them, the only thing I really missed over the weekend was the not posting, the rest of the internet trolling I was able to let go of.

Instead I read a lot.

I mean a lot.

I finished the Stephen King novel that I had been trekking through, he’s lost a little of his bite for me, but it was still a decent read and then on Sunday I picked up Althea and Oliver, a novel, a first novel at that, by Cristina Moracho, and read the whole thing.

The WHOLE thing.

I cannot remember the last time I read a book cover to cover in one day.

364 pages.

Not bad.

Not bad at all.

The book was great and I got loads of sunshine and I was reminded that it was ok to be sad.

I hate to admit it.

But I have been sad over the weekend.

I miss the ex and that took me a little by surprise.

I think I miss the being with someone.

I liked being a couple.

It’s not an experience I have had much of over the last ten years and I was feeling a little lonely hearts club.

“You are so noticed,” he said to me on the phone as I spelled out my woes, “and make sure you call and let me know when you are feeling sad about >>>>>> there’s probably something underneath it.”

There usually is.

I told someone this weekend after listening to her share a pretty indepth inventory that one of my greatest fears is that I am fat and ugly and will be alone for always.

I mean.

In a nutshell.

That’s the fear.

She looked a goggle at me.

“You are so not!”

Thank you doll.

I know that, but fear, like faith, is a belief in something that is not there.

It is not logical and it doesn’t make sense.

Most of the time I choose to ignore it or walk through it.

I was in fear about the laptop.

I can’t afford to replace it!

My head hollered at me.

What am I going to do!?

Um.

Self.

You know that online savings account that you have?

Yeah, the one that is titled “MacBook Savings,” yeah, that one?

You have enough.

“It’s hard to part with it, isn’t it?” My friend soothed me on the phone.

It is!

I don’t know why.

I just paid rent.

I just bought nice groceries for the week.

I have a job.

I have clothes on my back and a way to get to work and back.

My phone bill is paid.

My student loan is paid.

And.

I have money in a savings account for a new laptop because I knew this one was going to bite the bullet soon (nothing like having the guys at the Genius Bar at the Apple store chuckle and call your laptop an antique to give one the idea that it is time to upgrade) and shell out the dough.

So.

I put on my big girl pants and I transferred the savings account money into my checking account.

I still have some money in my savings account too.

Which I will have to re-title.

Since I did it!

I pulled the trigger and I bought a new MacBook Air.

The 13″.

I asked my employers today about theirs and marvelled at how light they were, the dad has a MacBook Air and the mom has a MacBook.

Both the same size, but the Air was much lighter and the dad sold me with the battery has a longer life than the MacBook.

Done.

I also chatted with an Apple service center person and made sure I got the educational discount.

I am not going to go into my graduate school interview in Converse and toting a messenger bag.

I will need to bring an extra sack to carry my Converse in, I’ll still be working a half day at work, but I will change out my shoes when I show up at the school.

I will be taking a car into work and then another to the school.

I’m not fucking around.

I don’t care the cost.

I mean, all things considered, $30,000 a year, what’s a few more bucks for an Uber. Might as well blow my cash while I still have some, like I have even a tenth of that in my savings (but at least there’s something in my savings), before I get hit with the tuition bill.

Because I will.

Have to pay tuition, that is.

Because I am getting in.

That is all.

And I will be dressed like an adult.

I spoke with a dear friend earlier today while having the boys out at the park in the late afternoon about how to go in and whether I should ride my bicycle to work, and you know, just fretting about the small stuff.

There’s a part of me that thinks, I could show up messy and slightly unprofessional, but why?

Why not show up like this is important to me.

I can dress like an adult.

I can.

Damn it.

I don’t have professional clothes, I never really have had a profession that requires tidy clothes, I mean, yeah when I was doing restaurant work, I had a uniform.

But professional clothes?

Not so much.

I do have some good jeans, dressy ones from Banana Republic and a nice blouse and camisole, I’ll do my hair up tidy like, sport out my new frames, and wear a pair of heels.

I have a jean jacket that will pass for my coat.

That’s really something that I don’t have–a decent jacket.

But my jean jacket is nice, and tailored and it will do.

I could also go with a pair of really nice black cords I have, but then I don’t have a jacket at all that will work with the heels.

I have two pairs of platform sandals and two pairs of wedge sandals.

None of them are appropriate.

But.

I do have one nice pair of Chinese Laundry Mary Janes in a taupe color that will pass for nice shoes and they look great with the jeans and when I put them on I felt more grown up.

I don’t often feel like an adult, truth be told, I still feel a lot like a big kid.

Which is, I am certain, part of what makes me so relatable to children.

I do sometimes wonder what it would look like to dress like an adult, but for the time being, I’m just working the jeans and the leggings.

Fortunately for me, I live in San Francisco and that is more than passable for women.

I don’t even really come across as a professional nanny half the time, but I am colorful and that I believe works in my favor.

I also can recognize that anxiety about my clothes comes from a very long history of not having enough money, especially when I was growing up, of not having the right clothes or outfit or shoes, or things that fit or were attractive.

I fed into the negative by also being a heavy-set girl.

The internet was not around and plus size clothing was not a thing.

I cannot tell you how welcome Lane Bryant was to me at one point in my life; and how, at another point in my life, I was grew out of Lane Bryant, but I went the opposite direction and down sized, literally, myself right out of their clothes.

I could still use some help dressing, but it’s not because my options are limited to size.

They may still be a bit limited due to budget, but that is slowly changing as well.

When I look at my closet there’s more options than there has been in a long while.

I could still use some help and I can see where I could have some nicer things, but really, I am so grateful I have what I have.

I’m clothed, I have a roof over my head, I have a job to go to, I have a bicycle, I have the option to take a car into work, I have a Vespa.

A Vespa that has been diagnosed!!

I may not say this correct, I had a gentleman swing by this evening and lend me a hand and I asked him tell me a few times what was wrong with it so I could repeat it to the mechanic: the “Pep cock” is broken in the fuel tank and needs to be fixed and there’s probably something clogging the carburetor.

Awesome.

I have no idea what that means, well, a little, it means that the fuel is not really getting to the engine, which is why it’s been dying all the time.

So when I get a moment to think about something other than the interview tomorrow, I will call the mechanic who put the new engine on the Vespa, and let him know what is happening and that I will need to drop it off for help.

It turns out Vespa San Francisco doesn’t do any work on vintage Vespa scooters.

Oh well.

Either that or I take it to Barry at the Scooter Center.

I’ll probably take it up to Chris Ward in the Tender Nob, next to my salon, Solid Gold, and get my hair done, kill two birds with one stone.

I’ll call up the motorcycle tow guy and tow the scooter up to Chris, he’s the one who put the new engine in it for my friend before he sold it to me, and have him fix it and pop out the little dent in the front fender.